


to cover a bleeding wound is to create ten more

by MabelLover



Series: these violent delights [1]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: F/M, Implied Murder, just generally dark ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelLover/pseuds/MabelLover
Summary: Aquila had been born to fly and to see sharper and farther ahead. Her father, she’d been told, had as well, had called upon his sense of justice to become the greatest detective, had called upon his years of investigation to become the greatest prophet.An ignored prophet.
Series: these violent delights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857103





	to cover a bleeding wound is to create ten more

Aquila had been born to fly and to see sharper and farther ahead. Her father, she’d been told, had as well, had called upon his sense of justice to become the greatest detective, had called upon his years of investigation to become the greatest prophet.

An ignored prophet.

And Aquila, like him, saw far ahead, far beyond the reaches of her own mother, who cried at even the smallest mention of astronomy, of her Phillip’s work. She’d tried to shield Aquila, to make her think of other things, of mathematics and natural sciences and philosophy and even fencing, but none truly worked.

Aquila saw the benefit in pretending to comply, though, and absorbed that knowledge while hiding her father’s research under her bed.

She calculated back and forth, she peeked through her father’s telescope, she found the anomaly. He was right. He was always right. And her mother was wrong, she _had_ to do this, even if it made her mother tremble and cry and bite her nails with fear. Aquila shushed her, though, with a promise of a plan and arsenic in her mother’s tea. She just let her go to sleep. It was long overdue.

It’d been during one of her terms at those prissy boarding schools that Aquila had the honor of meeting Donald Rutledge. He was around twenty years old, studying archeology in Cambridge and writing about an ancient civilization. He had looked at them, called them Azran and said that they were advanced but not as much as now.

Aquila could see beyond that. The Azran were far, far more than a simple ancient people. They were far more advanced than her own people. Donald stubbornly insisted that he was right, and she allowed him to think he was in control of whatever it was that they had between them. She played him like one of her dolls, and after her mother rested six feet under, she came back to Cambridge and married him.

Donald collected friends, admirers of his research, and Aquila charmed them into their trap. Once in, they could never be free of the web of blackmail and corruption she’d webbed, of her smile and sweet words and promise of wealth if only they just got some funding, if only that opposing figure had a terrible accident.

She ruled the world, Aquila, with men dancing in her palm and her father’s prophecy always in mind, never forgotten.

The Azran had the way to save them all, and she would find it.

Aquila became the first Eagle, and Targent became her safe haven.


End file.
